Daria is Flushed
by voiceofmy
Summary: I dislike Trent / Daria relationship stories. So naturally, I decided to write as decent of one as i could muster. Takes place a bit after 'Pierce Me'.


Daria woke up. She slowly turned from her side to a more comfortable position on her back. In doing so, she groaned with the realization that her spine had become a grotesque bulb of intertwined knots. This happened every time she slept over at Jane's house. She was no good at sleeping on floors.  
  
Slowly sitting upright, Daria stretched in a painful attempt to loosen her abused muscles. An inflatable mattress would be nice. She was sure she had thought that last time she was here, also. Doubtful that she would remember by tomorrow.  
  
Finally, Daria stood up and looked over at Jane's bed. The sheet's were incredibly twisted, and kicked into a pitiful position near the foot of the bed. Jane always seemed to sleep restlessly. But Jane was not present. Daria squinted, noticing that there was a piece of paper on the empty bed. Turning around and searching the room a couple times, Daria finally remembered where she had placed her glasses for the night, and went to retrieve them.  
  
Oh, that's right. The world has detail. Daria was always amused when she woke up to a room that seemed to be a smeared oil painting. You would have thought the novelty of glasses would wear off eventually, but Daria was still at least mildly impressed with them. After putting on her sight, she turned to approach Jane's bed a second time. Calmly, she picked up the note and read.  
  
'Hey Daria. It's about 7:00 right now. I went running. You might want to go down and get some food before it gets too late; Trent and the band are going to be rehearsing here this morning, which usually involves clearing the kitchen of all vaguely edible material. By the way, you snore like hell. - Jane'  
  
It was seven thirty now, according to the small clock on Jane's dresser. She had slept in later than she normally did. Daria glanced over at the bed once more, and observed a large wet spot. Daria smirked mentally. She didn't snore, just breathed loudly. But at least she didn't drool on her pillow. Her waking mind was interrupted from this half thought by the sudden atrocity of a distorted guitar being tuned. In the kitchen.  
  
Daria sat down on the corner of Jane's bed. Trent would be down there, sitting with his guitar and talking to the other members of his band while they gorged. Trent was down there. She shook her head. Jane always told her Trent was oblivious, and Daria had certainly not seen anything that would cause her to question this statement. Still, Trent.  
  
Standing up, Daria looked in the cracked mirror laying in one corner of Jane's art heaps. Well, she certainly looked attractive this morning. Her hair was tangled to hell, she was wearing the creased and unwashed blue shirt and yellow boxers she always wore to bed. No doubt that Trent would find that appealing, she thought sarcastically. She berated herself for this. Trent wouldn't look at her twice, and she knew it.  
  
Walking out of Jane's room at an unsteady trudge, Daria concocted a quick fantasy for herself. She'd walk into the kitchen, Trent would greet her in standard Trent form. He would ask if she wanted to hear what they had been playing, and she would say yes without sounding like a frozen deer. He would ask what she thought, and-  
  
Damn it, she had to pee. She rerouted herself into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Sitting down, her brain took the opportunity to mock her. How many times had she thought about the word 'Trent' over the last couple minutes? And why did she like him at all? She was as ditzy as Quinn. Still, her brain quickly eased its criticism. She even began dreaming up a new story for her and Trent while urinating.  
  
All thoughts were ripped out of her skull as the bathroom door creaked, however. Daria whipped her head towards the threatening noise to have her fear confirmed. Even her brain was too stunned to laugh at her expense.  
  
Trent started to walk in, until he saw Daria. With an expression of complete surprise and a hoarse noise to match it, he quickly turned around and shut the door behind him. Daria could hear her heart screaming. She put her face down into her hands, and could feel it burning with colour. It almost seemed to be dripping between her fingers.  
  
Nothing more significant than apocalyptic feelings of worthlessness managed to surface inside of Daria for the next few minutes. Of course she would look like a fool in front of him. She always did.  
  
Daria did not realize that she had walked outside until she was sitting down on the stone steps of the back porch. There was a cold breeze in the air, which contrasted nicely with the heat of shame that engulfed her body. It was wet outside, it must have rained last night. Daria could feel the water seeping into her socks and pressing against the flat of her soles.  
  
Slowly, after what seemed like hours but was truthfully minutes, Daria regained her mental balance. Still, the complete fear that Trent would laugh at her. Staring at the wet and untrimmed clumps of lawn, Daria seriously began to question why she cared about Trent so much.  
  
Oh, she found him physically attractive, but it wasn't that. In fact, that seemed to be a repercussion of her feeling attracted to him, not the other way around. If she wanted physical, she could have chosen any slab of meat that stood in front of her, like Jesse. Besides, the furthest she ever went with her constant daydreams was gratuitous kissing. And maybe a little bit of groping, she admitted. God, that would be nice. She could picture herself leaning on a wall in the rain, and Trent pulling her forwards and raking his hand across her back..  
  
She snapped her mind to attention. That wasn't worth thinking about now, especially since if he were thinking about her at the moment, it would likely be in the least romantic way possible. Any human could give her the reactions she dreamed of. Why did she obsess with Trent? What made him so desirable? He wasn't perceptive. Realistically, Daria could easily list every single difference between them and point out why a relationship would never work. But she still wanted one.  
  
While racking her mind for an answer to the mystery of Trent, Daria froze, in thought and action. She had sensed the door behind her opening. She could feel her face burn red once more, because she knew who it had to be.  
  
Trent sat down next to her, and said nothing. He sat looking out at the grass, vaguely the same spot Daria had been focusing on. "Hey." He finally began. Daria turned to look at him for a moment, then slid her head the opposite way. Even he would notice how embarrassed she was, with her face the colour of Jane's jacket. "Hey." She replied quietly.  
  
Trent turned to look at her. "Sorry for walking in on you, and stuff. I didn't know you were awake." Daria looked at him, although still avoiding eye contact. "I should have remembered to lock the door. Doesn't this make you think I'm an idiot?" Trent gave a sort of chuckle that ended in his near choking. Regaining his composure, he responded. "Naw. I'm in a band, Daria. I've seen a lot worse. In fact, I see worse almost every week. A couple days ago, we had this gig at the new pub that opened-" "I get the point." Daria interjected hurriedly. "But, um. Thanks." She finally looked up at him, and was able to only blush as much as she normally did.  
  
They sat quietly for a minute. Daria felt her desire for Trent grow with the silence. He could sit here and appreciate a moment with her. Being able to understand the compassion in silence was very romantic.  
  
"I've been meaning to ask you something." Trent suddenly decided. Although he said this in his typical rasping voice, the silence it killed made it seem twice as loud. Daria sighed. Maybe he hadn't quite grasped the moment as she had. Still, Daria could not help but tense at his words. It was doubtful that Trent knew how she felt, and impossible that he would return the feelings. But this sounded too close to what she wanted him to say. She must have misheard him somehow. "Um. What?" She muttered faintly.  
  
"I'm kind of embarrassed to mention it. I don't want you to get mad." Trent admitted. Daria could feel her heart escalate to a beating frenzy. She wanted him to just grab her and kiss. What if she grabbed him? What if she did, and that wasn't what he meant? No, better to play this conversation through. She would never do anything that bold, anyway. Daria opened her mouth, but Trent did not notice, and rolled along with what he wanted to say.  
  
"I was going through Janie's room, to see if I could borrow some money. I came across some papers on her floor, and I read 'em. They were really good. I asked Janie, and she said you wrote them. And, um. Mystik Spyral has a gig in a couple days that we have been trying to write a song for. Some local record guys are gonna be there. I was wondering if you could maybe help us change some lyrics around."  
  
Daria exhaled coldly. Of course, not what she had expected or hoped, but that would have been unrealistic. Sudden realization washed over her that a number of her Trent fantasies started inconspicuously like this, and she gathered up her hopes. "Sure. I'd be happy to. But I'm going to be honest about what needs to change." She said. Truthfully, their lyrics were terrible. It would be hard not tell them to botch the entire song. Trent nodded. "Constructive criticism, cool." With that, he stood up, and walked back towards the kitchen without waiting to see if Daria followed him.  
  
Walking towards the kitchen, Daria had a slight bit of realization wash over her. The reason she felt romantic lust for Trent. He was the only person she could think of who viewed her with honest neutrality, and respected her, for her intelligence and personality. Jane was different. Jane was more of a trusted and loved accomplice. But to Trent, She was not a close friend. She was just someone his kid sister tended to hang out with. She would be all too easy to ignore and forget. But Trent didn't. He listened to what she said with an open mind. He respected her thoughts in a way nobody at Lawndale High did. Not even her parents. She had a thick desire for Trent to validate her, because he already did to a point. Daria felt very ambivalent towards admitting this to herself.  
  
Daria walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table, beside Max, who was already arguing with Trent. Nick and Jesse were raiding the fridge savagely. "Alright, fine! I'll let her read it. But if I don't like what she comes up with, no changes!" Max whined. Trent gave an irritated nod. Reluctantly, Max handed a crumpled sheet of notebook paper to Daria. She looked at them both with an expression of slight surprise at being put on the spot so quickly, but then glanced down to the piece of paper and read it aloud.  
  
"My heart is as cold as a left over steak. Sitting on the counter for you to take. But you cut off a piece and you take a big bite. And even though it hurts, it'll be all right. But then you moved on, and you throw me down the sink. Trading me for a piece of cake, whose frosting was pink. And oh, what can I say except this disposer really hurts? I guess that I'm getting my, just desserts."  
  
God, what had she gotten herself into? Daria looked up to see Max eagerly waiting for appraisal, while trying to look like he didn't care what she said. Trent just waited. Well, she said she was going to give some constructive criticism. But she didn't want to blow the entire thing out of the water. It was their song. Sadly.  
  
"Well." Dare began cautiously. "One thing you may want to change is the fact that you jump between past and present tense. It should be 'threw', not 'throw'. And if that is in past tense, it really doesn't make sense to have the previous lines any other way. Also, It's really obvious you used the word 'pink' because you couldn't come up with anything else to rhyme with 'sink'. You might want to alter those lines. Otherwise, it's fine." She finished, blatantly lying about it being fine. How the hell did the last line even fit into it?  
  
Max stood up, outraged. "I'm not going to let some high school kid tell me how to write music! It's a form of expression! The.. tenses are different on purpose to, um. Signify that we don't really know where we are! In life!" Trent looked up at Max, with a look of confusion slowly crossing his face. "Wait, what?" "No deal, Trent! I'm not changing my lyrics!" Max seethed as he stormed off. Trent stood up, and gave Daria an extended shrug. "I think that pink cake thing was supposed to symbolize that she left him for some other girl. Thanks for trying, though." With that, he walked off to find Max. Nick and Jesse looked up, and then followed Trent and Max, carrying as much food as possible.  
  
Daria sat for a couple minutes, looking at nothing in particular. That hadn't gone exactly as she had thought it would, fortunately. Unfortunately, it hadn't gone as well as she had wished it could have. Still, Daria finally accepted everything that had and hadn't happened. This was real life, not some crappy romance novel where two people as different as her and Trent would magically confess their true love for each other and have perfect sex for all of eternity.  
  
Smirking at that thought, Daria got up and allowed her mind to finally wander off of the topic of Trentism and think about food. She opened the hollowed corpse of the fridge, and picked its bones for any meat Nick and Jesse may have overlooked. With a carton of orange juice and a piece of cold pizza, Daria sat back down at the table and ate.  
  
She was finishing up her slice of pizza when the front door opened. Jane walked into the room wearing a white tank top and black running shorts. "Yo. The band done 'practicing' already?" She greeted and asked, sitting down next to Daria. Still eating, she directed Jane's eyes towards the sheet Max had left on the table. She picked it up and began reading, then set it down with a look of mock pain. "Sorry to leave you in the lions den." She said. Looking at Daria, who was drinking down the last remnants of juice from the carton. "How was running?" Daria inquired.  
  
"Same old. What time is it now, seven forty five? A pretty good length run, if I do say so myself." Trent walked back into the room, and gave a nod to Jane. "Hey, Janie." Standing up and moving to the fridge, Jane turned back around with a glass of milk that had been already poured and left half drunk. "So, did any good Kodak moments occur while I was away?" Daria blushed rather heatedly and mumbled 'no' in unison with Trent. From the corner of her eye, she could see him scratching the back of his head in an embarrassed manner.  
  
Jane stared at both of them, and her eyebrows seemed to be trying to climb off the top of her head. 


End file.
